


The Doctor's Prologue Month: Nightmares to Dreams, Deviation of a Dream, Constitution, The Sneaky Doctor

by catvampcrazines



Series: Watching Her [1]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, POV Tenth Doctor, Post-Episode AU: s04e13 Journey's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 11:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18468088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catvampcrazines/pseuds/catvampcrazines
Summary: The Doctor still struggles after the events of “Journey’s End,” he dreams, he carries on, or tries, but one day he stumbles upon something that could change his life. Donna’s life.





	1. Nightmares to Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Fic timeline starts at July 2009, when I began posting Watching Her. The specials, save "The Next Doctor," are not taken into account as this is a bit of an alternate universe. That’s DW specials and TW COE.
> 
> TY to betas lilianvaldemyer and sonicgirl2005. I also proof on my own - if not otherwise noted - during the series.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor still struggles after the events of “Journey’s End,” he dreams, he carries on, or tries, but one day he stumbles upon something that could change his life. Donna’s life.

 

 

 

~~~

 

 

Donna.

 

Nightmares. 

 

Just weeks after he'd brought her home, they'd appeared. And he'd tried not to sleep, he really had. 

 

It wasn't as if he'd been pursuing them, he'd wanted to run from them like all the others, but with every day he felt more drained; adventures kept him awake for only so long and the visions became more frequent.

 

Each time he shut his eyes, she was there: shinning and brilliant, sad and angry. So often, he could hear her pleading with him.

 

"I can't go back. Don't make me go back. Doctor... please. Please, don't make me go back. No. No, please! Please! 

No! No! No!"

 

It echoed in his mind, shattered his hearts again.

 

Still, he returned, clinging to the beauty they held: delighted laughs, watery jewel-toned eyes staring into the heart of him, making him better, the woman with the fiery hair and temper to match...

 

With dazzling panache, she'd saved the universe and every parallel of it-- _and she was the woman that he'd_ \--

 

Oh, Donna. Donna Noble.

 

~~~

 

Yes, they'd begun as nightmares--too sharp, too fresh--but now even the ugliest were considered dreams: treasured glimpses and touches of a mirage. 

 

He welcomed them, sleep a rarity no more.

 

~~~

 

 

Image by  **cowboyhd**


	2. Deviation of a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hidden inside his own mind is the key to recovering Donna’s memories. Or, to be more accurate, in the last dream he’ll have of her for almost…six months. Post Journey's End.

****

 

“Everything you touch touches me, Donna.”

He stood close, the space between them rivaling the intimacy of any broom closet.

It was as if an invisible box held them there, movements minimal despite the infinitely dark, empty space surrounding them. Only their figures were highlighted.

She wore the last outfit he’d seen her in, sans the two tiny hair clips he’d nicked before he’d left.

She didn’t, couldn’t, evade his rising hand, silken wisps so real underneath his touch.

He tucked them behind the delicate shell of her ear, traced the curve with his fingertip, cupped her jaw.

“Don’t take that away,” he begged. Even as the words escaped, and panic festered, he could see through the haze of his dream state. He knew she was gone. Knew that he was the one, not her, who’d--

Her accusing eyes brimmed with frustrated tears, scarcely held in check.

Donna frowned at him and he twisted his own brows in response. Because this felt different. 

He’d had this dream before.

It sharpened. 

His awareness heightened as her mouth parted, barely trembling. And she shook her head slightly.

Donna wanted to speak so desperately, he could see it. But she struggled and just… couldn’t.

“Just tell me! Tell me how to fix this!” He grabbed her arms, giving in to the torture of it. “You can’t, can you? Because there  _is_  no answer. I’ve searched. I’ve tried. Donna, I swear I have. I went through all this,” he paused, one hand cutting the air impatiently,“but there’s nothing, no magical answer that’s going to come out of your mouth.”

Her eyes widened, mouth working; an agonizing struggle to do more than form the shape of words. No sound came out.

He gripped her harder.

“So what is it, then? Hmmm? What’s so important that my mind’s decided to change all this?” he spat.

Donna heaved out a harsh breath.

“YOU!” Her voice seethed all around them, had him jolting, head turning to follow the reverberations, eyes searching the darkness.

He swallowed and returned his gaze to her.

She hadn’t moved her mouth.

But now, having broken free, she grasped his arms with equal force, shaking as she did so. 

Her mouth moving in sync with her words, she spoke again, “You. You scaredy cat. You…space _boy_. You’ve got the answer. You searched  _everywhere_ , remember, except you forgot to look back at the obvious afterwards.”

He shook along with her. “What? No. Donna, no. I wouldn’t leave you there if—“

Golden, sparkling, light glowed beneath Donna’s feet and her clothing changed as it ran up her form.   
“Put it together,” she said softly. 

Her wedding dress. The one he’d first met her in. Light material swishing and… click.

His hands flew up as he stepped back. For the first time, he could step back. That barely registered compared to— 

“Is that it?” he asked, voice strangled. “Is it that… simple?” 

He peered at the residual particles; glinting, gradually fading around her.

“No.” She shook her head and he wondered at the worry he saw there. “It won’t be. Can’t be, because I could still burn just as easily.”

Her voice and appearance began to dull away.

“And don’t you remember…”

Wakefulness fast approached.

“… how long it took…” 

  
  
He sat up hard. His breathing hitched as he clutched at his hair.

Why hadn’t he  _seen_ —

His entire body pulsed, trembled with what the dream had implied.

He had his answer, unable to piece together the fragments of the key until he had the right reminder. The dress and particles were a major clue, a path to a possibility. No. It was more that than that. Less at the same time; something vague, because the Huon particles themselves had nothing at all to do with— directions!

His mind raced. 

He could do it. 

If he was careful, very careful and patient, he could find the right…

Tears pricked his eyes and he leapt out of bed, sheets thrown to the floor.

Bare feet stung as they pounded grating, sleep abandoned for the promises of something more.


	3. Constitution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tremble with this decision, but be firm once it’s made.

 

 

  
He found it, so small that it resembled nothing so much as a bottle of nail polish.  
  
A clattering of D’s sat piled around him like lost remnants of a children’s program: Dalek parts, doorknobs, and DVDs.  
  
He sat cross-legged, a man-in-his-jim-jams island amongst the mess, the tiny glass bottle shimmering softly as he held it to the light.  
 

***

The TARDIS materialised at its destination, hidden in the shadows between two quiet houses. He felt a small wave of relief as he heard music, just a little way off, that would have probably covered the sound of his trademark arrival.

One blue door creaked open to the night rain pattering gently on amber-lit cement and car rooftops. 

His feet hesitated for only a second before stepping onto slippery grass. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, barely more than a blink, trying to quell the twisting in his stomach.

The view refocussed as he opened his eyes: a well-lit house across the street, lots of cars in the driveway and lined along the curb, raucous chatter joining with strains of music and floating over to him. 

For a brief moment, a smile quirked at the side of his mouth... and then fell hard as his hearts joined his nervous stomach.

 

_It seemed that Donna Noble was having a party._

 

He slipped his hand into his coat pocket, tightly palmed the smooth glass that lay atop the miscellaneous collection inside.

Did he really have the right? If she was happy—

_“You scaredy cat.”_  She’d said that. In his dream.

She was right. He’d instantly rejected and repressed even the inkling of an answer when he’d run across the liquid, for much more than the fear of her burning. Buried deep within had been the dread of what she might say, how she’d react, once she remembered.  
 _  
No._

He tightened his jaw, taking strength from the ache it caused.

He wasn’t going to run. Not this time. 

From Donna or himself.

 

He slumped back against the blue box, tucking his other hand inside his pocket, and watched the shapes of random people walk behind familiar windows; curtains pulled back, as if for his viewing pleasure. Or, more likely, to invite everyone in to join the festivities. And, knowing Donna, probably to induce a little jealousy at the same time. 

What  _were_  they celebrating?

Time to find out.

 

***

 

Just a glimpse of red, that’s all he wanted.

  
Reassurance. A crumb of reality.

When she finally stepped into view, lively hands waving in the air, shouting and laughing, he sat with the strangest kind of relief.

Bum settled in the doorway, knees bent, feet planted firmly in the grass, he could see the span of the months ahead, the details suddenly hitting him with full force. What he needed to do. What he couldn’t do. 

Absently, he plucked at the leg of his striped trousers, his gaze still trained on her. Only her.

The TARDIS hummed, vibrations and tone set to their most soothing as they connected with him through wood framing. He touched his temple to her, hooked his fingers through a golden handle as he leaned against the side of her closed door.

He’d make Donna proud.

 


	4. The Sneaky Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor discovers why Donna Noble is having a party.

_Previously_ :   
  
  
The TARDIS hummed, vibrations and tone set to their most soothing as they connected with him through wood framing. He touched his temple to her, hooked his fingers through a golden handle as he leaned against the side of her closed door.  
  
He’d make Donna proud.  
  


 

***

He breathed a heavy sigh as the rain petered off until it was barely discernable, the remaining droplets glinting in neighborhood lights. His cue to get up.

Steadying himself, he tightened his grasp on the TARDIS’ door handle and straightened from his slumped position in its doorway. As he turned and locked it, he stretched taller to ease some of the tension in his back.

It was easy after the first step. His feet carried him across the street on automatic.

Thank Rassilon for the lack of traffic tonight.  
 

***  
 

The side view from the front window that he’d chosen was not the best; he had to lean into plain sight to see what she was up to, and even then she was hard to spot. She seemed to be spending a lot of time in the kitchen. He found it amusing, even if it did get a bit annoying, because Donna Noble had hardly  _ever_  spent time in the kitchen when she’d been with him. Well, not unless bribed with a cup of tea, the latest issue of Cosmo and the promise that he’d be the one cooking… 

The utter disarray of the house took him aback. No one seemed bothered by it, not even  _Sylvia_. There were boxes in each room and just about everyone, wine glass in hand, tossed a few items in.

He shoved on his specs and leaned perilously close to the window to read the scribblings on each cardboard container, but jerked back fast as Donna came back into the room, following two friends as they headed to the door. She had several bags of crisps in her hands while the couple, a lanky dark-haired man and petite blonde woman, carried bottles of pop. 

Leftovers.

He panicked as the door swung open, barely having time to scramble around the house corner as music grew clearer and the couple walked onto the doorstep, Donna in tow.

As he recovered, she shoved bags of opened crisps at them. “Here!” she said cheerfully. “Take them. I can’t eat all of those, not with the new diet.”

There was a beat and they all laughed. Even Donna.

“Thanks for coming, you two,” she said as they took her offerings.

“No problem,” the blonde said, still smiling. “Couldn’t miss the start of a new fabulous fad!”

“The packing party?” her - boyfriend? Neither of them were wearing rings - asked doubtfully.

“Hey, it could happen,” Donna laughed.

“Just as long as all that packing is put to good use, I suppose,” the man said bemusedly.

“No mysterious traveling off now!” his girlfriend leaned forward and teased.

“Whuh?” Donna tilted her head and the Doctor felt a stab of guilt at her look of puzzlement. 

“Ohhh, Egypt, right? Fat load of  _mysterious_ ,” she waggled her fingers in the air, “that was! Didn’t even get to walk around barefoot!”

The couple glanced at each other, puzzled themselves, but then nodded slightly, apparently accepting the blips in Donna’s memory. 

Almost like they were patiently playing through their favorite skipping cd, the Doctor thought to himself sadly. They faltered only for as long Donna had, even if their smiles seemed somewhat pasted on. 

“Yeah,” the blonde continued, “well, you can walk around as barefoot as you want in your new flat.”

Donna beamed at them, genuinely excited. And, if he was right about the tiny twitch he spotted at the top of her cheek, vaguely bothered that she was missing something. 

The ache in his chest spread as they said their slightly awkward, but warm, farewells. Everyone hugging, Donna kissed the woman on the cheek before the couple walked down the gravel driveway.

As she turned back into the house, he relaxed slightly, ready to resume his peeping position, but stopped short as she sighed and came back through the open door with two black bags of trash.

She threw them in the bins, staring for a second before closing the lids.

“Another load of miscellaneous junk I don’t need…” 

The melancholy in her voice made him wish that he could cheer her up or at least pop up and distract her.  _Which would be incredibly stupid at this point_ , he told himself firmly. He controlled his already stubbornly itchy right foot by crossing it behind his left ankle.

As Donna headed back up the driveway, he forgot about his incredibly-sympathetic-to-Donna right foot and tried to back away further into the shadow. By hopping. 

Very unstealthily, very oafishly, he hopped. 

And fell, more quietly than he’d hopped, on his arse.

Donna stopped and paused, peering at the shadowed side of the house, clearly not seeing him as she tentatively called out a soft, “Hello?”

“Who is it?” She walked closer and he edged backwards. He grew even more alarmed as she smiled sweetly, hands on her knees as she cooed, “Do we have a cute little stray on our hands? Hmm?”

“Donna!” Sylvia’s voice rang through to the yard, making them both start.

Donna frowned in her mother’s direction. “What?”

“Get inside. You’re letting the air conditioning out!”

“I’m just saying hello to that stray kitty,” Donna replied impatiently, hands on hips.

She turned back, flipping modes again, and he found himself frozen as her hand reached forward—palm up, gentle.

She made soft kissy noises.

It was surreal and… oddly stirring. 

“Come on,” she coaxed, “we should get you out of here before the old bat uses you for tyre practice.”

 _He’d bet._  Stupid. Thick, stupid, curious nature of his—he’d given into a quick look and now his months long plan was going to be reduced to—

“Oh, shut up. I would  _never_  hurt an animal!” Sylvia’s voice came from the doorway this time, but it lacked its usual bite. “You’re going to spread rumors about me before you even leave, is that it?” 

He restrained a laugh as Donna rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath, “Don’t need me to do that, trust me.”

“Besides,” Sylvia continued, “the little thing hasn’t been around here for months.” 

He blinked as the instant pang of loathing he’d felt faded and he recognized infinitesimal tremor there.

The irritation on Donna’s face faded as she straightened and gave her mother a wry smile.

“Alright. Must have been a squirrel then.”

“Come on, get in.” Sylvia nodded her head towards the party, adding dryly, “Enjoy the rest of your oh-so-trendy idea before you have to face the mess in the morning.” 

Donna smiled, turning her nose into the air in faux haughtiness. “Make fun of me if you like, but it’s a thousand times faster than us three slow pokes. I could probably move out at the end of the week if I wanted to. Two weeks if I didn’t want any hassle at all.” 

“We’ll have to see what that complex says, then,” her mother quipped, unimpressed but surprisingly playful. 

As, he imagined, Sylvia went inside, Donna hesitated. Her eyes scrutinized the shaded side of the house.

His pulse ratcheted. But she shrugged her shoulders softly after a moment, walking away and disappearing from his side of the lawn.

He wilted as she retreated.

Right. Good then. Just… moving out. 

No mention of another county or… man. 

With disgust, he realized he was still clutching at the grass beneath him; butt soaked, arms propped up on his knees, he plucked blades of pulled, wet, grass from between his fingers. 

He willed himself to calm down, pondering the ludicrous idea of snagging a cat to get him out of these sticky situations…

He was  _not_  amused when he felt something just as soaked as him rub against his back.

 

 


End file.
